


The Third

by susiedrae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Post-Goblet of Fire, Strong!Harry, Training, Voldemort has a son, Work In Progress, no pairings decided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiedrae/pseuds/susiedrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Riddle legacy seemed to be sons who went against their father's wishes. Tom Riddle the First was manipulated into eloping with Merope. Tom Marvolo Riddle broke away from his Muggle roots. Even with all that history, it was a surprise when Tom Riddle the Third appeared during the war with a radical thought- he wanted to be good. Starts after GoF, expands on/does not follow book plot</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Returning

“Avada kedav--”

“No!” I thrashed in the dark, drenched in a cold sweat and hardly able to breathe past the dreams, past the memories.

_ I am home. I am safe. That world is a lifetime away. He’s not here. He’s gone.  _

The words were a mantra that even I didn’t trust as truth.

I stumbled through the dark to the bathroom, turning on the light to stare at my reflection.

Pale skin, angled jaw, dark hair.

I hated my reflection more than the next guy. My reflection wasn’t just mine. A few decades ago, it could have been  _ his _ and that was a truth I could hardly admit.

With shaking fingers, I pulled back my left sleeve, trying to push down the bile rising in my throat.

For the first time in years, the Dark Mark swirled and burned against my skin. I crumpled to the floor in fear, shock, and shame.

The Dark Lord lives again.

My father has returned.

* * *

 

For the first few years of my life, I didn’t have a name. I was sure someone had named me, at some point, but there was never anything solid to give me identity. Until I meant something, I wasn’t worth anything and was therefore undeserving of acknowledgment. For a while, I had thought my name was Tom. Then I realized that the name itself was a taint against me, a mockery of the Muggle name that I would be branded with if I wasn’t worth a good name, a strong name. 

The Dark Lord rarely had time for his precious heir, a boon I took for granted when I was young, so I had been raised by his most faithful and twisted followers. As I grew older and stronger, my father would take time to test me and try his best to break me into the perfect heir. I was trained extensively and, by the time other children were receiving their Hogwarts letters, I was helping to direct the Death Eaters on the battlefields. I was still too young, too raw, to risk in the true fighting but there was little to veil from me the death and suffering my father and his followers were spreading.

It wasn’t until I was old enough to be welcomed into the war, to be baptised into the legion of followers, that the shallowness of my own existence really sunk in. All I amounted to was a cautiously molded general, a more advanced pawn to be ordered about and to never argue an order. I was expected to be a ruthless leader and a devoted follower at the same time, guiding my father’s army as he realized his dreams of a new world order.

That was when I became something more than what they wanted, something different than what dear old Dad wanted, that I realized that the name had been mine all the while. I was, from the moment I decided to want something  _ else _ , Tom Riddle the Third. I was given a name that meant nothing because, to Tom Riddle Junior, I was nothing. I was not the Prince my father wanted just as I was not the Dark Lord his followers expected. I wasn’t even average-- I was something far worse: I was  _ good _ .

I wanted to be good. I didn’t want to make a life through fear. I knew then why torture made me sick to my stomach and why death made me cringe from a young age. I became tolerant to both but only through necessity. If I hadn’t, I would have died a young failure. 

As soon as I was sure that I would be something else, my life got understandably more complicated. Sure, it was all too easy to allow myself to be captured by the Order of the Phoenix, but it was another matter to reassure them all that I truly was what I said.

It had taken years to gain that trust and to begin a life where I could be what I wanted. And now, as I stared at the black scar twisting and writhing against my skin, I could almost feel that life slipping away from me.

_ He’s back. He’s back. He’s back _ .


	2. The Game Begins

With more than a little uncertainty churning in the pit of my stomach, I closed my hand around a helping of Floo powder. There was no doubt in my mind that he had already been informed by his pet Death Eater, but the fact remained that I owed Albus Dumbledore my loyalty. Just because my world was going to hell didn’t mean that I could ignore those I to whom I was indebted.

Contrary to Rita Skeeter’s beliefs, I was not a fan of Dumbledore for his dedication to the light. I didn’t follow him because he was the only man I believed capable of defeating or even intimidating my father. I hardly even liked the man. Against everything, however, I respected him.

Dumbledore, despite his ties to the light, was everything that I had been raised to idolize and seek. He was as cunning as he was manipulative and, if his planning called for it, he was not unwilling to sacrifice a few pawns in the course of the game. He saw the usefulness in others before they saw it themselves and he was able to use that self-doubt and self-deprecation to his purposes, drawing his followers closer and coaxing them to believe that everything special about them was, in fact, drawn from their benevolent leader. Had he been called to the Dark Arts, he would have made my own father look like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Dumbledore’s bag of tricks hadn’t worked on me, of course. I’d been taught to run the game; I was not about to be played. The kind grandfather figure had no effect on me, nor did the haunted old man. I saw the truth and, so long as Dumbledore refrained from attempting to hide it from me, he would have as much trust as I could afford him.

“Headmaster’s Office,” I murmured, throwing the powder into my fireplace and stepping into the flames as they flared up. I staggered out of the flames less gracefully than usual, only to see a strange audience before me. The headmaster himself was there, of course, but there was also a ragged looking teenager and a very large black dog. Taking a longer glance at the boy, I knew precisely who he was. That helped significantly in identifying the dog.

“Ah, Thomas,” Dumbledore greeted wearily. I noted warily that his mask was thinner than usual, betraying the years plaguing his mind and the guilts even he couldn’t deny. “I had expected you, just not quite so soon.”

“Then you know?” Of course he knew.

“Yes. Mr. Potter has just regaled me with the entire story.”

Harry Potter’s face twisted as if he had smelled something foul. With another moment, his mouth twisted into an accusatory yell.

“You!” the boy yelled angrily. I scowled.

“You don’t know who you’re talking to, boy.” I didn’t have the patience to calm the boy down. I needed to know what happened and quickly. I returned my attention to Dumbledore. “He is angry that the boy escaped. You must run damage control immediately.”

“Someone has already been sent to monitor the situation,” Dumbledore reported, glancing almost pointedly at Harry.  _ So the boy doesn’t know the full situation... _

I didn’t exactly blame Dumbledore for not telling the Potter boy everything-- I knew that the old man was trying to preserve Potter’s innocence or whatever-- but I hadn’t expected him to be so unaware of his surroundings.

“What is going on?!” Harry shouted out, his eyes wide and frantic. I snorted.

“Nothing that concerns you. After all, you seem to have done enough today.” The dog began to growl low in his throat.

“Thomas.” Dumbledore’s voice was sharp, almost warning, as his facade chipped just a bit more. “Harry has just undergone a quite terrible ordeal. He needs sleep, and peace and quiet.”

“He doesn’t need to be babied by you, Dumbledore. You know full well what I was doing at his age.”

“He is not you,” the old man reminded me in a voice that might have been considered gentle if his eyes weren’t flashing dangerously at me. Even so, I scoffed.

“Maybe he should be. The thing about a hero, Dumbledore, is that they need to be able to fight the bad guy and  _ win _ , not escape while real heroes die around them.” 

Something in my latest remark set Harry off and he lunged towards me, his wand forgotten. Dumbledore’s hand moved towards his wand but I had the situation in hand, twisting the boy into a chokehold with ease. Sirius snapped and growled at me protectively but made no move to attack. There was no way the animagus could attack me without hurting Harry and he knew it.

“Touched a nerve, didn’t I?” I whispered in his ear. He struggled against my grip in vain. I tightened my hold just a little to remind him who was in control. “You need to be able to think before you blindly attack an enemy. I’m afraid your real opponents won’t be as friendly as I am. And stop fretting, Sirius. You know I wouldn’t harm the boy. Much, anyway.”

I released the boy before Dumbledore could say a word. Harry rubbed at his throat, coughing as he gulped down air.

“I expect a full briefing of the situation, Dumbledore. I’ll mobilize my contacts immediately but it could be a few days before we hear from my...  _ friends _ .”

“I understand. You are welcome to stay here, so long as you don’t disturb the students. I imagine they’ve had enough excitement for one day... Come, Harry, Sirius. We must get you to the hospital wing. Your friends are probably driving Madame Pomfrey to a frenzy.”

As soon as they were gone, I unrolled my sleeve and studied my forearm once more. The ink had begun to fade by now, but it was nowhere near as faint as it was in the years of inactivity.  _ He _ had finished his latest business with his followers but there was still so much for him to do. Every second was precious in this battle and it seemed that Voldemort had quite a phenomenal head start.

* * *

 I nursed a cup of black coffee-- tea was never quite strong enough for me-- as Dumbledore finished retelling the Potter boy’s story of the graveyard and my father’s resurrection. When he was finished, I sighed tiredly, trying to delay the inevitable.

“You can’t protect him any longer, Dumbledore. I know you’ve tried but the boy is going to be dragged into this war whether you want it or not. His destiny is tied to my father’s in a way that seems impossible and it is a bond that my father fears. You need to train the boy to at least be ready to fight on even terms so that he might last long enough to be a symbol.”

“And who would you recommend to train him?”

“I’d recommend Severus but I doubt the man can absorb more stress without breaking. Of the other Order members, the only ones that seem fit would be Kingsley or perhaps Mad-Eye.”

“Aurors?” Dumbledore’s eyes lacked the twinkle that they possessed when they gazed upon his pawns. Now I saw only a determined, almost icy, concentration.

“They are the only ones that have a diversified enough education to forgo further teachers as well as the only ones trained thoroughly enough to keep the boy safe over the summer. He’ll be reasonably protected during the school year by Hogwarts’ wards but you know as well as I do that they’ll need to be revisited soon.”

“That is true, but warding is no longer as common as it was when the wards were last retouched. To bring in someone who has never worked with wards of such complexity could damage the existing wards even further.”

“So you need an expert from scratch. That would explain Bill Weasley’s curiosity into curse-breaking and warding.”

“Are you suggesting that I--”

“Yes,” I interrupted casually. “Though it is one of the more creative uses for Legilimency that I have seen. Once the war’s over, I must remember to ask how you did it.”

Dumbledore glowered at me, neglecting to speak for quite some time. When he did, there was a predatory gleam in his eyes as if he’d devised his next great game.

“I know who I can trust to be Mr. Potter’s tutor.”

“And who might that be?”

“Why, my dear boy,  _ you _ , of course.” My coffee cup shattered in my grip, spilling hot coffee down my front and cutting my hand open, but Dumbledore’s brilliant smile refused to budge.

“Me?” I asked dangerously. Blood and coffee ran down my arm in equal measure and I scowled at the dull pain. “Are you mad, Dumbledore?”

“Perhaps, but I don’t doubt your ability to impart some wisdom on the boy.”

“You want me to train my father’s nemesis?”

“You say that as if there is still love to be lost between you and your father,” Dumbledore chuckled dryly. “If it sets you any more at ease, I do believe that your life debt would be fulfilled by this arrangement.”

“You conniving old man,” I hissed. “I’ve repaid that debt.”

“To me, perhaps. Not, I think, to Lily. Your debt to her lives through her son and I don’t think you’ll be able to avoid it much longer.”

A life debt was not a pretty thing to have. It was only under the most extreme circumstances that one can even be formed or dissolved. When Lily Potter saw me held captive by Dumbledore’s Order, it was she who fought for my freedom from persecution. It was at her behest that I was allowed my freedom and sanity, a debt that I could never repay. She had argued that the life debt was voided the moment I joined the Order but I knew as well as she did that there was no way to ignore it forever.

I couldn’t forget a life debt, not if it called me to fulfill it. If helping the boy would free me of the debt... It was not an option I could turn a blind eye to.

“I don’t have the patience for teaching boys,” I argued half-heartedly.

“Didn’t you say Harry shouldn’t be coddled? I doubt there’s a soul alive as incapable of spoiling the boy as you.”

“I could reintroduce him to Father,” I retorted darkly. Dumbledore laughed just as humorlessly, his eyes never leaving mine. Sighing, I relented. “Fine. I’ll assign Kingsley to the Black manhunt. That should free him up enough to assume my duties until the end of the summer... I hope you know what you’re doing, old man. You’re playing a dangerous game now.”

“This was always a dangerous game,” he replied smoothly, taking a delicate sip from his teacup. I only scowled.


	3. The Chamber

Aside from sorting and rearranging my schedule at the Office, there wasn’t much for me to do to prepare. I already had a safe enough location to train the boy in, one that no one would suspect, and I had a vague idea of what I would need to teach him. And so, at the end of the school year, I found myself standing on the Hogsmeade train platform waiting for—

“Potter.” Harry turned around sharply, his face falling into a scowl when he spotted me. The friends Dumbledore had warned me about, I noted, were strangely absent. Tucking that away for later exploration.

“You. What do you want?”

“You’re not going home to your aunt and uncle’s house this summer. Dumbledore has decided that, after the events of late, you need further training and preparation if you’re to survive this war long enough to win it.”

“He’s going to let me fight?” Harry asked, shocked. I rolled my eyes.

“You’re not a foot soldier, boy; you’re a symbol. It’s your job to survive the war and let the rest of us win it.”

“Dumbledore’s still going to keep me out of the fighting after everything that’s happened?” Harry almost growled, angrier than I had expected. I raised an eyebrow.

“One teenage boy dying is not, in the grand scheme of things, a catastrophe. It is tragic and wasteful but witnessing one death doesn’t enable you to become the hero of the day just because you think it should. If anything, Cedric Diggory’s death was a necessary tragedy to rally our forces back together.”

“You think his death was  _ necessary _ ?” I wasn’t fazed by the boy’s shouting, but I was more than a little glad that the majority of the crowds had cleared out of the platform by now.

“Yes,” I replied curtly. “Neither of us would be standing here if it weren’t for Diggory, not that I’m highly ecstatic about that at the moment. His death has set things in motion that you can’t begin to comprehend just yet.”

“Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I actually laughed at Harry’s snide reply.

“Merlin, no. It’s not my job to coddle you, as you might recall.”

“So what’s your job?”

“My job is to make sure you survive this war. The worst enemies live out of spite. Just look at F—Voldemort,” I corrected myself quickly, silently cursing old habits. My arm stung sharply at the name, the ink snake writhing in reprimand beneath my robes. Harry, to my irritation, caught on to the slip-up.

“What did you call him?”

“Voldemort,” I answered tensely, glancing around at the platform as the Dark mark burned my arm. The platform was very much empty now with just a few students poking along. They were probably the first years or Muggleborns exploring but I wouldn’t risk much information on that.

“No, before that!” Harry pressed. I resisted the urge to draw my wand, reminding myself that the boy didn’t know better; he was totally ignorant. Instead of drawing my wand, I clapped my hand on the boy’s shoulder and dug my nails in, ignoring his gasp of shock and shutting my eyes, preparing to Apparate.

Harry was sent to the floor, coughing and wheezing from the sudden travel. When he recovered, I was already walking away.

“You’ve been here once, according to Dumbledore. All you saw, however, was Peridae’s den. The tunnels extend far into the castle. These were the private libraries and studies of Salazar Slytherin himself.” I gestured around. We were in a massive, multi-tiered library nearly equal to the main Hogwarts library, the walls covered with ancient tomes and unique scrolls. The house elves had done well in maintaining Slytherin’s trove; there was not a speck of dust or a single cobweb gracing the huge room.

“The- The Chamber of Secrets?” Harry gasped, his eyes scanning the walls. “But, how did you—”

“How did I get in?” I scoffed. “Sometimes I forget how little you’ve been told by your precious Dumbledore. This place is my birthright. I have, like my forefathers before me, gained access to the Chamber and hid my own secrets here. I am Thomas Riddle the Third.”

“The third? But that means—” Harry, still on his hands and knees, began to crawl away. I scowled.

“Yes. The Dark Lord is my father.”

* * *

 

“I give you this information because, outside of Hogwarts, it’s almost common knowledge. If Dumbledore hadn’t had so much interference in your life, we probably would have met years ago,” I explained to Harry, leading him through the library once he’d recovered from the original shock and panic that he was left alone with the sole heir of his lifelong nemesis

“Why would we have? I doubt I’d go looking for you.”

“You wouldn’t have to… I was born so that my father would have the perfect general for his armies. He was to mold me and break me into the perfect shape so that, when the world was his, he could sit back and enjoy the view while someone he trusted did all of the work. I was a pawn, just as you are now. I realized when I was around fourteen that I didn’t want that. I rebelled and, luckily for me, the Order caught up with me before dear old Dad did. I was captured and interrogated, tortured and dehumanized on Dumbledore’s orders, but I wasn’t killed. A few months into my capture, I met your mother… Lily Potter had just discovered that she was pregnant-- with you. She, for whatever reason, pictured her child in my shoes and called for an end to the torture. I was as close to free as I had ever been. I wasn’t exactly liked but I was trusted enough. I gave Dumbledore information on my father and he gave me my life. Since then, I’ve gotten a more formal education, joined the Aurors, and rose to the position of Deputy Head of the Auror Office.”

“So why would you have found me?”

“The same reason Dumbledore roped me into this; I am indebted to your mother in a way I can’t avoid. In our world, it’s usually referred to a life debt… When she put her trust in me, she quite literally saved my life. I am honor and magic-bound to try to return that favor. With her gone, that life debt is manifested through you. Your parents, both of them, accidentally made some very well executed moves that have ensured you almost-ultimate protection.”

“Both of them?”

“It’s not my story to tell,” I said, shaking my head as I thought of Severus and James Potter. “Just know that I’m not the only one trying to assuage a life debt through you. I’m just playing nicer than usual about it.”

“What would happen to you if the life debt wasn’t fulfilled?” Harry asked curiously. I hummed, thinking deeply.

“Everyone that has been recorded has had a different reaction. Some people lose their magic, others suffer from curses. A few cases have lost their children. A handful lose their minds. Sometimes nothing seems to happen. With my luck, I’d spontaneously combust.” I laughed; the image was too ridiculous for me to keep a straight face.

“And you can make jokes about it? My mother’s dead and you owed her your life!”

“My mother was murdered as soon as I was old enough to survive without her,” I said, unmoved by the boy’s angry tears. “I wasn’t told her name until I was sixteen, two years after I left Father’s service. You’re not the only orphan in the world.”

I led him through a set of double doors into a wide corridor, coming to a stop at the fourth door from the library.

“This will be your room for the summer. If you need something, and I sincerely hope you don’t, my room is on the end. The school’s house elves do come down here if you get hungry but dinner will be in half an hour. A house elf will summon you to dinner to show you how to get to the kitchen. You’ll only be shown once, so pay attention. I suggest you take the time until then to acquaint yourself with the room. You will not have access to the rest of the castle during your stay here unless I say otherwise.”

I was more than able to ignore Harry’s glare on my back as I turned to leave.  

* * *

 

I was leafing through a book of less than reputable morality when Harry breezed into the kitchen led by an ecstatic house elf.

“Thank you, Dobby. You’re free to return to the kitchens if you like.”

“Oh, thank you, Master Thomas, sir. Always a pleasure to see the young Harry Potter, as well,” Dobby gushed before vanishing with a loud  _ crack.  _ I chuckled once the elf was gone.

“Dobby speaks very highly of you,  _ young master _ .”

“I’m not sure why,” Harry said with a shrug. I sent him a sharp glance.

“You know exactly why, boy. Dobby owes you a life debt and is trying to fulfill it in any way he can. Luckily for him, house elves are able to fulfill a life debt through their normal duties. If you are still alive by your graduation, you should take Dobby up as your personal house elf. He might faint from happiness, but you’d be making his life a lot smoother.”

Harry looked uncomfortable and, in his searching for another conversation, he spotted the leather cover of the book I was reading.

“What is that?”

“Descendants of Slytherin have made a tradition of donating their own contributions to the libraries hidden beneath the castle… This is one of my father’s contributions.  _ Darke Magicks: To Reach Through the Veil _ .”

“The veil?” Harry asked curiously. I smiled wryly.

“The veil of death. It is a book on necromancy.”

“And you’re  _ reading _ it?” Harry looked disgusted. I nodded, picking up my mug and taking a sip of tea.

“Dad’s always had a curious interest into mortality. Once you can stomach its contents, the book is actually quite a good read. There are a number of tomes he donated to the collection that are similarly interesting but nothing to leave out in front of polite company.”

Harry was silent for a long while, long enough for me to finish the chapter on Inferi theory—what happens to the soul of the Inferi, if they are aware of what is happening to their body—and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

“Why do you call him that?”

“Voldemort?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I ignored the prickling of my arm, silently cursing the taboo. It was another measure of my father’s to keep his closest followers in line. Fear of a name, even to those most loyal to him. “Why don’t you call your parents James and Lily?”

“Because they’re my  _ parents _ .”

“James is your father as much as Voldemort is mine.” My hand tightened on the book, trying to diffuse the pain, before I could think to relax it. Harry noticed the movement but was too focused on his current pursuit to question it.

“But—”

“But nothing…” I closed my book with a snap. “I know of your past treatment at the hands of Lily’s sister and her family. All those years under their care… Weren’t you ever angry?”

“Of course,” Harry said between clenched teeth. I nodded once. “But I don’t see how--”

“The people we are surrounded by alter us more than we’d like. That anger you felt… It made you stronger. You felt hurt and abused, belittled by the few people left in the world that were  _ supposed _ to love you, and now you can’t stand to see anyone else live like that. That’s why you are in Gryffindor, not just because of what you heard about the other houses on the train your first year and not because you wanted to be with your little friends. You hate bullies more than anything and you don’t care about your own safety because you weren’t raised to put yourself first. That’s who you’ve become.”

“So what? What’s that got to do with—” Harry fell silent very quietly as it suddenly clicked in his little head. I snorted as his jaw fell open and his eyes softened.

“Don’t shed tears for me, boy. I am who I am because of Father and what he is. I can’t begrudge him or hate him for what he’s done to  _ me _ . I can, however, work to make sure he doesn’t do it to anyone else.”

“So you’re a Gryffindor?” Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around what I was telling him. The notion of me in gold and red was a ridiculous image, though, and I laughed again.

“Hardly.”


	4. Parsel

I didn’t need to look up to know when Harry, at last, stumbled through the doors into one of the smaller studies. If I was correct, it was last used by Periboia Gaunt, a descendant of Slytherin that died during one plague or another. Out of respect for her prematurely ended line, the study was left vacated. I was never one for tradition, however, and intended for the room to be Harry’s primary classroom. I was seated at the late Periboia’s desk, my feet propped up on the mahogany.

“You’re late.”

“I got lost,” Harry admitted grudgingly.

“Look around you, boy. What do you see?”

“Books?” Harry asked innocently.

“Don’t be clever. Look at the walls, the tapestries. You’ll notice a very common theme. What is it?”

“Snakes?” Harry guessed after a moment. I nodded, looking up from  _ Parseltongue: Hidden Arts _ .

“Snakes,” I echoed. “You know why the emblem of Slytherin house is a snake, correct?”

“It’s because Salazar Slytherin was a parselmouth, right?”

“That is correct. Now, do you know why Hogwarts was built in this precise location?”

That one was harder for Harry to answer. After a long minute of biting his lip, he answered hesitantly.

“Something to do with ley lines, right?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” I replied smoothly.

“Telling,” Harry answered tightly. I nodded once more.

“Good. This is where you education will begin. I don’t expect you to take notes but I expect you to pay attention. Take a seat,” I ordered, gesturing towards the chair across from me. When he sat down, I moved my feet from the desk to look at him levelly. “Ley lines are ancient pathways through which natural magic, one of the most ancient and misunderstood types of magic, run. When these pathways intersect, there is a certain amount that runs and spills over, resulting in an area permeated with vast amounts of potential energy. Hogwarts’ grounds rest on the intersection of four ley lines; four founders, four houses, four ley lines. This made the initial construction much easier and faster and makes upkeep of the castle possible with minimal care. It also had a curious side effect on the castle itself.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are stories, if you look hard enough, that reference something called the  _ cridhe dhen caistiel _ or, the heart of the castle. The castle itself, and every nonliving thing within it, has taken on a sort of echo of a personality. It isn’t strong enough to be noticed by the students but the staff can easily spend decades of their lives within the castle.”

“The castle is alive?” Harry asked, wide-eyed. I stood up, walking towards the marble fireplace, admiring the snakes carved into the gray and black stone. The craftsmanship was unparalleled; the snakes looked as if they would writhe free of the masonry when no one was looking.

“Not quite. The castle has a very distinctive personality to it but, on the whole, it remains nonliving. Pieces of it, however…  **_Come to me, ancient ones, and heed my pleas. I remain loyal to my blood, diluted though it may be._ ** ” I ran my hand along the back of one of the snakes on the mantel and, before my eyes, the snake bucked and shifted under my hand. The marble snake came free of the stone, blinking its jet eyes and looking to me questioningly.

_ “ _ **_We do not forget our oaths, Master Riddle_ ** _. _ ” The snake coiled itself around my wrist, its carved scales cold against my skin. I turned, holding the stone snake out for Harry to examine.

“The ley lines have imbued life into the castle in ways that the founders couldn’t have predicted. Though this is not a skill you can likely use around the castle, as many still fear and misunderstand Parseltongue, it is a useful tool to wield down here.”

“That’s—that’s brilliant. What can it do?” Harry asked me, not tearing his eyes away from the snake.

“Ask yourself.”

“Um…” Harry looked incredibly uncomfortable with the notion of speaking Parseltongue. He went on to answer my unasked question without prodding. “I don’t know how to.”

“You can’t control the gift?” I asked, frowning.

“I never really needed to talk to snakes. Even when I did—”

“You weren’t aware that you were speaking Parseltongue. You are an unrealized speaker. That’s no issue. I will be able to teach you how to control the gift.  **_Thank you, ancient one, for your time and attention. Rest now, and await your next task._ ** ”

The snake fell from my hand, shattering into rough shards of marble against the floor. The rock pieces melted back together into a seamless snake within moments before the stone snake slithered back to the fireplace. It slithered up the side of the mantle before returning to its place, where it froze back into a part of the masonry until called upon once more.

“This book will be one of your assignments,” I said, holding  _ Parseltongue: Hidden Arts _ out for him to take. He did and glanced over the cover. “This book was written in the early Dark Ages, when the lines between Dark and Light magic was more blurred and parselmouths less ostracized. Even so, to be a parselmouth held certain… connotations. To escape persecution, parselmouths would secretly gather in various villages or territories across the land so that they could exchange stories and, more importantly, knowledge. This book is an example of an early spell book. Each time its author learned a new spell she wrote it down and added it to her collection, holding the book’s existence close to her heart. The book you hold now wasn’t published for many years but it remains one of the best books I’ve come across that touches upon so many applications of parselmagic.”

“So what do you want me to do with it?”

“Read it, of course. I’ve got a rough checklist put together based on the Auror training regime. My goal is to squeeze three years of training into one summer so I’d recommend that you learn very quickly. You won’t have much practical work until I feel that you’re fundamental theory is on par and it’s the practical stuff that’s fun.”

“You’re not making me write a paper or something on it?”

“I expect you to become familiar with the book and its content. How you do that is up to you.” I watched as Harry opened the book to the first page and noted how his expression quickly flitted from curious to frustrated. “You won’t be able to read it just yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a mild perception filter common to parsel texts. You won’t be able to read it yourself until the charm on the parchment registers you as a parselmouth.”

“But I am a parselmouth,” Harry argued with a frown. I raised an eyebrow.

“A realized parselmouth can take command of the skill and use it when and wherever they like. Again, I’ll teach you how to control the gift so you’ll be able to read parsel. For now, though…” I drew my wand and, before Harry could react properly, I was already drawing upon my magic. “ _ Imperio! _ ”

Harry gasped from the onslaught, fighting against it with all his might. For a teenager, he gave quite a fight. It was easy for him to fight when I was telling him to recite  _ Hamlet _ . I changed my approach and he melted into my control. Once it was clear that Harry’s will to fight back, or even his ability to muster that will, was gone, I released the spell and he abruptly stopped tap dancing and fell to his knees, gasping and clawing for breath.

“What—the bloody hell—” 

“Albus briefed me on your education thus far. I was aware that Barty Crouch Jr. had given you instruction on battling off the imperius curse. I needed to gauge your capability.”

“So you  _ attacked _ me?” Harry gave an accusatory sort of huff, finally catching his breath.

“If I had wanted to attack you, you’d be dead,  _ boy _ . I am here to teach you, not murder you. And aren’t you going to ask how I managed to break you so easily?”

“That was easy?” he asked, a bit of a pout playing at his lips. I smirked.

“Remember who I was trained by. That was _child’s_ _play_. I doubt Mad-Eye Moody could escape my imperius without outside intervention or a hell of a lot of need.”

“Alright… How did you manage to get control?”

“Think about how you felt during the curse… You can hear the commands being given to you, the impulses that go along with it… Why did you give in?”

“Because…” Harry’s brow furrowed as he thought. “I wanted to fight. But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes it does,” I corrected. “The power of suggestion is extremely powerful. Once it became clear that I would spend more than a few minutes—much more time than I want to invest if I’m taking part in a battle or a duel—to break you down, I told you something different.”

“You told me to fight you off?”

“And you listened. You fought harder because I ordered it. That made it a bit harder for me, but not for long. Once you’ve let me in even a little, I put down roots. At some point during each of our lessons, you will experience the imperius curse without warning. We will continue that until you can throw me off within thirty seconds.”

“But you just said that Mad-Eye couldn’t—”

“Mad-Eye is not being personally targeted by the Dark Lord, nor is he Dumbledore’s poster boy. We need you to be able to keep your wits about you, no matter who’s trying to pull your strings.”

“I thought Dumbledore was going to keep me out of the fighting,” Harry grumbled.

“Dumbledore wants a lot of things. He’s reasonable in assuming he won’t get all, or even most, of his desires. He’s old enough to know to hedge his bets.”

“And you told him to,” Harry said suddenly, as if in realization. “After the graveyard, after  _ he _ came back, you were in the office. You said that I shouldn’t be coddled, that I have a right to know.”

“Dumbledore assumes that, because you’re young, you aren’t ready to know what lies ahead of you.”

“But you think I am.” Harry was trying so hard to rationalize me into the hero. It was almost sad.

“I don’t think you’re ready to know but you don’t have a choice. The war isn’t going to wait long enough for you to grow up. My father will be looking to end this war as quickly and efficiently as possible. This won’t be a clean war. There will be casualties—mostly ours—and there’s nothing we can do but keep fighting it.”

“So you’ll fight?”

“Of course I will,” I acknowledged, glancing up at the bookshelves looking for the next book I was going to give Harry. “Even if I didn’t want to, I’d have to. The press would be all over me, demanding why I don’t join the light. If I don’t play my cards right over the next few months, I’ll end up dead or imprisoned by the end of this war no matter who wins”

“That’s—”

“Don’t pity me,” I interrupted him, reaching up to take his next book down from the shelf, a plain red leather book. “This shall be your syllabus. To view the text, tap it with your wand and say your full name. The text will disappear once you shut the book. I’m assuming we won’t finish everything you need to learn over the summer but I’d prefer if your classmates didn’t all know that you are learning significantly more advanced magic.

“Now… for the rest of today, show me what you’ve learned so far.”

Harry groaned.


	5. May Your Gold Always Flow

The second half of July passed quickly as I ran Harry through drill after drill. As I expected, potions was his spottiest subject. I could tell, however, that that was largely from a lack of patient and fair instructors. I took the time to introduce Harry to botany before reintroducing him to potions, teaching him to understand the relationships between ingredients and how they reacted in different conditions to combine into a singular product. Once he was able to combine botany, herbology, and potions together, he turned out to have quite a talent for potions.

He was surprisingly talented at defensive magic. Even with his history of horrendous and unreliable instructors, Harry was adept at basic and intermediate dueling spells. Within three weeks we managed to review and solidify all of his four years of previous education, something I was unsure of how to receive. Yes, it made progressing into my training more immediate but it also meant that Hogwarts was teaching less and less. I’d have to have Dumbledore or, more likely, McGonagall look into the situation. Minerva always had a good head on her shoulders—she’d make a great headmistress when Dumbledore finally retires.

In addition to honing his mind, I started working with Harry to get his body in fighting condition. He had already had to work to get in shape for the Triwizard Tournament but I needed to rely on his ability to fight for hours on end. We began a training regime that kept him busy and too exhausted to get into any sort of mischief.

At precisely five before eleven on July 27th, Harry walked into the small study that had become his main classroom, a number of books in his arms. He kept the majority of books in the study as it was available to him at all times but there were a few that he understandably kept with him.  _ Parseltongue: Hidden Arts, The King’s Fool,  _ and  _ Advanced Runic Theory: Quantifying Magic _ were all placed gently onto the table. I spoke as he went to take his seat.

“Class will be a little different today. I want you to go through your copies of  _ Most Potente Potions  _ and _ Advanced Potion Making _ and compile a list of all ingredients for a wiggenweld potion, a fatiguing infusion, an invigoration draught, and a wideye potion.”

“Why?” Harry asked after a few seconds when it became clear that I wasn’t going to clarify on my own. I smirked.

“I think it’s time for you to stretch your legs a bit. We’ll take some time today to go to Diagon Alley and resupply. I also heard from a little bird that you’ve never heard your parents’ wills read.”

“They--...”

“Of course they had wills written out, stupid,” I scoffed. “As an orphan, your sponsor should have arranged for you to see the wills upon your first trip into Diagon but the old man’s never been good with the finer details. The greater good, and all that.”

“You mean Dumbledore’s the reason I haven’t read the wills?” Harry was indignant, maybe even a little mad at his precious grandfather figure.

“He’s also the reason you’ve got James’ cloak. Yes, I know about that. That cloak would have been locked in the main Potter vault until you come of age if Dumbledore didn’t have the forethought to have kept it to himself when the Ministry came calling.”

“So what do I need to see the wills for?” Harry grumbled. I scowled at him and flicked out my wrist, smacking him on the back of his head.

“Attitude, Potter,” I warned. “Get to work.”

With only a quiet grumble under his breath, Harry opened up his potions textbook and got started, flicking through the pages until he found one of the potions in question. While Harry was working at his task, I propped my feet up and busied myself with rereading the correspondence sent to me by the Head Goblin at Gringotts.

* * *

 

Diagon Alley was always a bustling place. Now, during the peak of the summer season, Harry and I could hardly move through the crowd. The only times I’d ever seen the wizarding street busier was in the days before September 1st. Even so, we managed to get in and out of the apothecary and Madame Malkin's-- Harry was growing taller and needed to order better-fitting robes-- in fairly good time. I glanced at my watch before guiding Harry into Gringotts.

Quarter past one. We were a little early for our appointment but that was nothing to lament. It was always better to be early than late, especially when dealing with creatures as short-tempered as goblins.

I led Harry away from the teller desks and down one of the building’s many winding corridors that opened up into a tastefully furnished sitting room. I took a seat in an armchair and gestured for Harry to sit across from me. He did so without a remark.

“I’m sure you’re wondering exactly why I brought you here today,” I began, knowing that the boy had been fighting asking out of turn for the past half hour at least. “I am curious to know if the wills of your parents have any information about your living situation. Normally, you live with your aunt and uncle Dursley, correct?”

“Yes,” Harry answered succinctly. I hummed, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Lily was never very forthcoming with information about her Muggle sister, but I knew the rumors as well as anyone else. Arabella hasn’t disclosed much to me but what she has is less than promising.”

“What does that have to do with anything? It’s not like I can change anything. I’m not old enough.”

“You’re not seventeen, but you’re forgetting that you’re dealing with the poster child of legal emancipation. You think I had to wait three years until after I left Father’s service to join the fight? Not even close. Depending on what is said in your parents’ will, Dumbledore and I have come to an arrangement of sorts.” The arrangement left a bitter taste in my mouth. The boy was irritating at best and much more responsibility than I’d ever cared for. Whenever I’ve had to take care of a person in the past, it generally meant I had to silence them. Harry Potter would be a tedious project to undertake.

“What arrangement?”

“I will tell you once your parents’ wills have been read. There’s no sense in getting you all excited for what may be nothing.”

Punctual as always, a lower goblin stepped into the waiting room.

“Master Riddle, young Master Potter. Please follow me,” the goblin said with a brisk tone. I wasn’t offended at his curt tone, however, as his jaw was slightly upturned, revealing his neck to me. I lifted my head in response, acknowledging him as an honored ally.

Thank dear old Dad for making sure that I was up to scratch in goblin politics, not that he thought it would help  _ me _ . He couldn’t let a teenager singlehandedly ruined any chance of alliance he had in one false move.

I stood and followed after the goblin with Harry at my heels. The three of us walked in silence down the marble halls, our footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone. After a short but winding walk, we came to a stop in front of a pair of black double doors. A small plaque adjacent to the door declared that the room within belong to  _ Head Goblin Garvis Hammerfall. _

The goblin rapped his knuckles against the black stained wood and a voice from within called for us to enter. The door swung open without anyone touching it, exposing the large office belonging to the leader of this branch of Gringotts.

The office was spacious and meticulously decorated. The marble theme of the bank carried on into this room’s floors and the walls were crisp white with mahogany wainscotting. Bookshelves lined one entire wall from the floor to the ceiling with only one gap, large enough for a door but made entirely of white marble. In front of the wall of bookshelves stood a desk. Two chairs were pulled up in front of the desk but, around those, I could clearly see the Head Goblin seated at his desk. He had a scattering of documents before him on his desk but his quill had been lowered as he looked up at us with black, intelligent eyes.

Goblins were truly terrifying. It’s luck alone that they stay neutral with human politics and wars. If Dumbledore or my father had gotten them to join a side... The war would have been over in less than a month and likely kill every wizarding person in the country.

“Good morning, Head Hammerfall. It is an honor to meet you,” I intoned, bowing my head and twisting my right hand at my waist to show I held nothing in my hand. Harry clumsily mimicked me, trying to put into action what little I had told him when talking about goblins.

“Good morning, Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter,” Garvis replied, his voice toneless. His hand quirked in the direction of the chairs and I moved forward at the queue, taking the seat on the left. When Harry was seated next to me, Garvis spoke again. “What can I do for you today?”

“Mr. Potter has a need to consult the wills of James and Lily Potter. The Ministry reported that both were filed by Keeper Roucak.”

“I see. And the grounds for seeking the wills in question?”

“The grounds that the wills in question was never reviewed by the son of the deceased.”

“Curious,” Garvis hummed softly to himself before standing up and turning, placing his open palm upon the bare marble wall. As his clawed fingers scratched lightly at the stone, it transformed into wood until he stopped his hand, now on a brass doorknob. Warvis opened the black stained door and snapped his fingers, holding his hand out. I could see nothing within the doorway. It opened to straight darkness. Within seconds, two folders appeared from within the darkness and flew into Garvis’ outstretched hand. He closed the door and, by the time he laid the files gently upon his desk, the door had reverted back to solid marble.

The goblins might not be allowed to have wands by the Ministry, but no one could call them incapable of magic.

“The wills in question,” Garvis announced, sliding the folders along the desk towards Harry. Harry looked at them hesitantly, as if they were about to rear up and bite him, and I shot him a sharp look. At the glance, he finally reached out for the will on top, opening it and skimming its contents. His brow furrowed, Harry passed the document to me.

I read through it more closely than Harry did. James Potter’s will came down to a few things: Harry was to be left in the care of his mother or, if she was not able to care for him, to his godfather, Sirius Black. The Potter vault would be his to open his eleventh birthday though he would have a trust fund for the duration of his Hogwarts years that would remain as his primary vault until he reached his majority. The various properties-- a manor in Wales, a house in Godric’s Hollow, and a flat in Belgravia-- were to be overseen by the Potter’s three house elves until Harry became of age.

I picked up Lily’s will with a little more apprehension. I never really knew James that closely. He was a favorite of Dumbledore’s and, while he hadn’t taken a very active role in my torture, James was no friend to me. Lily was different, though. I resisted the urge to swallow and opened the folder, trying hard to not look at the bottom of the page, where I knew her signature would have been signed with her usual flourish.

The will said much the same as James’s. Sirius Black was the godfather, everything gets left to Harry, blah blah blah. The interesting part was a tiny little footnote that decreed that Harry was not to be left with his Muggle relatives unless there was truly no alternative. Lily would have known there would be people to raise Harry even if James and Sirius couldn’t. The Potters were popular and had very good friends. That made this little footnote even more curious.

If Lily Potter had expressly stated in her will that Harry was not to be raised by the Dursleys, how could that desire be ignored upon her death? 

My eyes found the witness signature beneath Lily’s: Alice Longbottom. That made sense. The Longbottoms had been attacked very soon after that Halloween. If I remember correctly, it had barely been two weeks. With the witness dead, the will likely fell into the cracks. With a quick glance, I confirmed that Sirius-- who had very soon gone to Azkaban after Harry was orphaned-- was the witness on James’s will.

Two wills, two witness, and no one had realized what had happened. Harry had no named godmother but, according to his mother’s will, he could live with just about anyone.

“Head Garvis, I will need verified copies of both wills. I would also like to request Legacies for both myself and Mr. Potter,” I said decidedly. Garvis raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Legacies are very expensive and exhaustive procedures, Mr. Riddle, but I’m sure you know that. When would you like them to be performed?”

“As soon as convenient,” I said carefully. “I would also like Mr. Potter’s to be done as discreetly as possible. Given recent events, I’m sure you can understand why.”

“Yes, quite. Due to the drain on the facilitator, only one Legacy can be done at a time. The first Legacy can be performed today, but the other must wait one to two weeks so that the facilitator can rest.”

“Of course. In that case, Harry shall go first. I can return by myself at a later date.”

“Very well. If you two would return to the waiting room, I shall send someone to gather you when your documents and the Legacy have been prepared.”

“Thank you, Head Garvis.” I bowed my head once more and got to my feet. “May your gold always flow.”

“And your enemies fall, Mr. Riddle.”


	6. The Legacy

As we waited, I explained to Harry what a Legacy was and attempted to answer his many, many other questions. He had apparently had a fascination for goblins that hadn't been satisfied but even I couldn't satiate all of his curiosity.

"A Legacy is also known as a blood certification ceremony. It is a sort of blood magic unique to the goblins that allows them to learn a person's general genealogy. It doesn't reveal specific parentage but it exposes any links to the registered families. Most if not all pureblood families are registered and new families are added every three years, so long as they meet the requirements."

"There are requirements to be registered?"

"Could you imagine having every single family registered? It might be great if you're some unknown kid looking for equally unknown family but, for the purposes of the Legacy, it's just not logical. The tradition purpose of the Legacy is to settle disputes of blood or birthright. If two people come forward to claim a lady or lordship, a Legacy decides impartially which one has the stronger claim to the title."

"What's the point of that?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Haven't your years at Hogwarts given you a general idea? In our world, the majority of power is held by the aristocracy. A title changing hands is a very big deal, especially if the title belongs to a Most Ancient and Noble House. At this point, since there hasn't been active fighting in over a decade, most of the houses have stabilized but everyone and their cousin was out getting Legacies after the war ended. Everyone needed to know where they stood in the hierarchy before the country could begin to heal."

"That's stupid," Harry declared with a scowl. I widened my eyes skeptically.

"Is it? The war left much of the country either ravaged by guerilla warfare or left unsupported because the old money that was funneling into the economy suddenly was cut off. The last war wasn't a poor man's war. Once that money was reclaimed, money could resume trickling down to the middle and working classes. I won't argue the validity of the aristocracy but it's a system that works well most of the time. We've had an incompetent Minister for your entire life so you only see the corruption of the system. There isn't much social mobility in the world, but even the lowest class citizens are reasonably well to do. It's hard to be truly impoverished when you have magic."

"That's not fair, though," Harry argued. I shrugged.

"Life isn't fair. What the lower class families lack in wealth, they make up for in other ways. Ron Weasley, despite being the sixth child in a reasonably poor family, will be able to marry who he likes and live a fairly comfortable life so long as he keeps his nose clean and works decently hard. Draco Malfoy, however, will likely be roped into a marriage contract. If he's lucky, he and the girl will be compatible. His upbringing will leave him with few practical skills, forcing him to rely entirely on his wealth and name to stay prosperous. If he loses either, he'll be ambiguous in society, a position to be pitied and avoided at all costs."

I could tell that Harry wasn't satisfied with my answer but a goblin came into the waiting room before he could form another question.

"Head Garvis is prepared for you. Please follow me," the goblin said, bowing his head.

We went through the marble hallways once more, eventually pausing in front of a door that opened into the heart of Gringotts- rough hewn stone passageways lined with the occasional torch to provide flicking light. The goblin led Harry and I deeper and deeper into the tunnels. Eventually we came out into a good sized atrium. A stone altar was set up in the center of the room, covered with a white sheet and a variety of bizarre looking tools and vials of potions.

Harry shot me a very startled look but I shook my head. Legacies weren't dangerous, just intimidating from what I'd heard. All the ritual really required from Harry was a little bit of blood and he's bled for a ritual before. This one would be nothing compared to that.

I watched impassively until I had to leave the room. The Legacy was a temperamental bit of work. Any outside sources of magic could skew the results and, when dealing with bloodlines and fortunes, there was no room for error. I waited in the hall as Garvis began to chant and the echoing of drums pulsed through the air.

* * *

"It is finished," Garvis announced as he exited the room, leaning heavily against the wall. Harry was not by his side and I narrowed my eyes. "The boy will be fine but the ceremony is not exactly easy on the body. I shall have the results translated and compiled for you. Please wait here. Mr. Potter will require time to recover. I recommend allowing him to eat and then sleep."

"Very well. Thank you, Head Garvis. I shall send you a letter to schedule my own Legacy but mine is not nearly as urgent as Mr. Potter's so you will have ample time to recover."

"Thank you, Mr. Riddle. May your gold always flow."

"And your enemies fall," I finished. Garvis started walking away, leaving the door into the atrium open. I entered as Garvis turned a corner, disappearing from sight. My eyes caught sight of Harry sitting up on the altar, one arm wrapped around his stomach as if he'd been ill. He was pale and sweat covered his face in an unhealthy sheen and, as I came closer and closer, it was clear the boy was shaking.

"Not exactly your cup of tea, is it?" I asked with a teasing smirk. Harry looked too exhausted to even glare up at me and I scowled. That's no fun. "I'll give you the rest of today and tomorrow to recover but no more. No strenuous activity, including our normal training regime."

Harry looked grateful and I hummed to myself. Couldn't have that, now could I?

"Instead of working your body or your magic, you will be focusing on parseltongue until you've recovered. We have a very tight schedule and I will not waste your time or mine licking your wounds."

"Yes, sir," Harry grumbled, looking put out. All was right in the world again.

"Mr. Riddle," a familiar voice called from the door. I turned and was surprised to see the goblin I normally do my own banking with, a brash fellow named Gornuk. He was more outwardly resentful about the laws restricting goblins than most of the other goblins I'd encountered but, so long as you didn't bring up politics, he was a good enough guy. He had a folder grasped in his hands and, as I walked to meet him, I extended my hand to accept the folder.

"Gornuk. I hope you're well."

"Well enough. Head Garvis wished I bring this to you. Anything else you need?

"I think that's all, although I will need to visit my vault when I return for my own Legacy."

"Very well. I'll show you out when you've reviewed the documents," Gornuk reported. I nodded and he moved to stand by the door, giving Harry and I some privacy to look at the results.

_**Full Name: Harry James Potter** _

_**Date of Birth: July 31st, 1980** _

_**Father: James Nathaniel Potter** _

_**Mother: Lillian Jean Potter (nee Evans)** _

_**Titles: Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter (paternal birthright), Heir Apparent of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black (as declared by current Lord)** _

_**Gifts: Parselmouth (unrealized), Animagus (unrealized)** _

_**Additional Notes: Protection bestowed by LJP (October 31st, 1981), Bond of Blood bestowed by AWPBD (October 31st, 1981)** _

_**Legacy, performed on July 27th, 1995** _

_**Performed by Head Garvis Hammerfall** _

_**Filed by Keeper Roucak** _

Nothing on there was a true surprise to me with the possible exception of his unrealized animagus gift. Any witch or wizard had the potential to become an animagus, but there was an inheritable trait that Harry evidently possessed that made the transition easier and more natural. From the stories I'd heard of regarding his parents' Hogwarts days, it was easy to assume he inherited the trait from James.

"No surprises," I informed Harry. "Once we get you officially emancipated away from the Dursleys, you have the option to take on the mantle of Lord Potter. It's your choice but, if I were you, I'd leave that alone until you reach your majority or the war forces you to."

"Lord Potter?" Harry echoed, his eyes wide with shock and I rolled my eyes.

"Your father was the pureblood heir to a Most Ancient and Noble House. Your family has very strong roots in potioneering. I believe you've experienced Skele-gro before."

"That was my family?" Harry asked, astounded.

"Not that exact formula, but yes. Several important potions can be traced to your family." I resisted the urge to grimace, reminded of those old political lessons that I was sure I was never going to use. I was fully aware of the irony that everything I was telling Harry was taught to me by his nemesis.

When Harry was recovered enough, the two of us returned to Gornuk and followed behind him back to the front of the bank. With a quick goodbye, Harry and I were back outside. Diagon Alley was much more empty than it had been when we'd arrived and I realized exactly how much time had passed.

"It must be nearly six," I murmured, looking up at the sun's sinking position in the sky. I held my arm out and Harry grabbed hold at once. I turned on my spot, dragging Harry with me through Side-Along Apparition. I'd teach him how to Apparate by himself at some point but I was in no mood for him to be popping up everywhere just yet. That, and I was probably breaking enough laws tutoring him.

"You may return to your room until dinner if you would like. I shall be in my study if you need anything."

"Thank you," Harry chimed as I started walking away. I resisted the urge to pause and continued on towards my study.

"You're welcome."


	7. Grimmauld Place

I brushed the dust off of my coat as I stepped out of the darkened alley I'd apparated into. Walking down the street, I had no control over the scowl that grew on my lips as Grimmauld Place came into view. I may hate Sirius Black with a passion but I wouldn't want anyone to be trapped in that place. I'd only stepped into it a few times but each time I did I was reminded of my father's favorite sort of followers: the truly-righteous fanatics.

Unluckily for both Sirius and me, the place was the new HQ of the Order so we would both be spending time in those dark hallways.

I knocked on the door twice, rapping my knuckles against the wood. The door opened in less than a minute and a vaguely familiar red-headed woman opened the door with a chastising look upon her face as if she'd caught me sit at the dinner table before I washed my hands. It was that maternally angry expression that allowed me to think of her name.

"Hello, Molly. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Tom," Molly exclaimed warmly, as if just now remembering my face. "Come in, come in. You're just in time. Dumbledore's not here yet, but most everyone is."

She ushered me inside and closed the door firmly behind me. She held a finger to her lips, gesturing towards the covered portrait in the hall and led me into the kitchen. As Molly had hinted, most of the Order was around. From once-retired Aurors to petty thieves, we were a ragtag bunch. How Dumbledore expected this group to be able to fight, I wasn't quite sure. I was sure that was Moody's real purpose here, though; militarizing the Order.

Order meetings sounded a lot more glorious than they really were. There was forty minutes of socializing for every twenty minutes of actual work and no one did anything productive until Dumbledore showed up. To be honest, it was terrifying that _this_ was what was in between my father and domination. If things didn't improve quickly, we wouldn't last much more than a month.

I sat in the back of the meeting, only paying half attention to the meeting as Moody droned on and on about the importance of ducking or something. It was only when I abruptly realized that everyone had turned to me that I noticed that the conversation had shifted. Dumbledore looked at me expectantly and, because it wasn't just the two of us, his eyes had that annoying amusement in them.

"Tom?" he asked patiently. "Would you like to update us how young Harry is doing?"

"If you want," I said with a casual shrug. "I spent a lot of time reviewing his fundamentals and theory. There isn't anything really flashy that I've taught him so far but he's better aware of his surroundings. He's physically stronger and faster now, so he'll have a shot if someone comes at him, as unlikely as that is... He's able to throw off my imperius in just under three minutes, which is pretty impressive if I say so myself... What else..."

"How is he?" Remus Lupin asked curiously, earnestly. I raised an eyebrow, asking myself that same thing. Was he happy? Was that even important?

"He's busy. Scrimgeour's not happy with me out of the office this long so I'm trying to get this training done as quickly as possible."

"I still don't see why he can't do this training here," Sirius said with a dark scowl. I looked at him incredulously.

"I need him focused. Coming here will only distract him away from his training."

"Don't say that like you care!" Sirius growled angrily. I narrowed my eyes at him warningly. "If you cared, you'd at least let him communicate with other people."

"Why? So you can send him a letter about how miserable you are trapped here? Sorry, Sirius, but Harry has bigger concerns than you being lonely."

"Of course, because your daddy won't let him have anything else," Sirius spat, jumping to his feet. I stood as well, glaring at the man.

"Sirius," Dumbledore interrupted, his voice low with warning. "Calm down."

Sirius was shaking with anger but, at Dumbledore's order, he slowly took his seat. I didn't take mine. I clenched my fists in an attempt to force them to not shake as I stared Sirius down.

"Don't worry, Black. I'm not petty enough to take my anger out on a _child_ ," I prodded.

"You weren't a child," Sirius growled back lowly. I clenched my jaw.

"Is that what you tell yourself?"

"Thomas." I turned to Dumbledore, who stared at me with somber eyes. "We shall be in touch."

I took that as an excuse and nodded my head before leaving the room in a rush. Most of the Order's day to day business didn't involve me now that I was the glorified babysitter so my absence for the rest of the meeting wouldn't be too painful. The kitchen door swung shut behind me just as I almost tripped on a strange trinket. A series of gasps rang out from the landing on the stairs as I examined the curious device and I chuckled to myself, realizing what I had trodden on.

"I hope you don't let Molly see these things. I don't think _I_ 'd survive that beating," I murmured with a shiver. A group of five kids peered at me from their place on the stairs, studying me closely. One of them, a younger red-headed girl, looked as if she were going to be sick. She pulled on the sleeve of another kid- one of two twins next to her- and whispered something in his ear. He reddened angrily at whatever she said and he drew his wand. I sighed, scratching the back of my neck.

"Who are you?" the twin demanded.

"My name's Tom. I'm a friend of Dumbledore's," I said, very generously abusing the word friend. I looked at the girl with what I hoped was an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I've been told that I have a _very_ strong resemblance to my father."

"Father?" she said weakly. I nodded, smiling wryly.

"Unfortunately. Now... you know who I am. You four must be Arthur's and Molly's, but I don't know who you are," I said as kindly as I could to the one brown haired girl in the lot. I'm not sure why I was making such an effort to be nice but some part of me decided it'd be easier in the long run.

"Hermione Granger."

That name was familiar. That meant the red-headed boy that _wasn't_ a twin was likely Ron Weasley. Harry would be pleased to know that his best friends are safe and sound.

"Ah, okay. That would make you Ron," I said, nodding to the boy. "I'm Harry's... teacher."

"For what, exactly? The Extendable Ears work great, they just only work about a third of the time," one of the twins said with a shrug. "They're a work in progress though."

"We'll be sure to get them perfected by the end of summer."

"Course Mum'll probably have caught on by then," the other twin said a little sadly.

"I'm training Harry to survive the war," I said honestly. Ron scowled.

"What about us? We want to fight!" he said decidedly. I shrugged. If he wanted to fight, I wasn't going to tell him not to. I'm sure he got enough of that from the rest of the Order. Even so, I _couldn't_ train the lot of them.

"I'm a top Auror. I don't have a lot of time to train anyone. Training Harry is taking up more of my time than I have to spare. It's also not my decision if you all get trained. You're underage, so it's up to your parents and Dumbledore before it's up to me. Once I've finished with Harry, though, he should be proficient enough to pass on some of what I taught him. I'm sure he'd be willing to help out between classes," I suggested.

"Like a club? A junior Order?" Ron snorted.

"The Death Eaters started when the Dark Lord was in school," I pointed out. "Idiots called themselves the Knights of Walpurgis back then. Although I wouldn't go about calling yourselves junior anything. Wouldn't exactly strike fear into the hearts of your enemies, now would it?"

"I'll work on it," Ron promised with a glint in his eye.

"You do that. Now... Extendable Ears... Is that a creation of yours?" I asked, turning my eyes to the twins. Mischievous grins grew at my question and suddenly both twins were speaking to me in tandem, pulling out bizarre inventions and strange looking baubles from their pockets and explaining their grand scheme- Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

The twins might be working towards mischief and mayhem with their innovations but they were bloody brilliant. With some careful... _guidance,_ I would bet an arm and a leg that they could shift that genius towards more battle-ready applications. It was something to think about.

Perhaps not to Dumbledore, though. It's been a while since I've had some good secrets. I think the twins could be a rather fun one.


	8. Adsumo

I scowled at the papers in front of me. Harry was a talented brat but there was a limit to how much and how fast he could learn. Then there was the simple fact that his magical core- which wouldn't be fully stabilized for another few years- was constantly in flux. Some magicks would simply be too complex for him to attempt safely. And, as one more thing to juggle, Dumbledore decided to tell me _now_ that Harry needed to return to the Dursleys for at least two weeks in order to renew the bond of blood Dumbledore had bestowed upon him. If I forbade that trip, there was a chance that Harry would lose that last line of protection. This knowledge sped up my timeline far faster than I wanted. Either I could allow Harry to maintain that blood protection a little longer or try to alter it and start executing the deal Dumbledore and I had worked out.

In either case, I'd have to do what I was trying very hard to avoid- actually talk to the boy about this new proposal.

Sighing angrily to myself, I flourished my wand at the papers and organized them into an organized pile. Taking the stack in hand, I left my study and went across the hall to where Harry would be working on his latest assignment- a new chapter in his parselmouth spellbook. After finally realizing the gift during his recovery from his Legacy, Harry had devoted a surprising amount of energy towards the mastery of his new tool. It enthralled him to know that parselmagic had its own branches of magic and he seemed determined to master some aspect of each branch.

His door was open, allowing me to see Harry working at the table with books opened and parchment scattered all around him. There was a smudge of ink on his cheek as if he'd rubbed at his face and I chuckled, causing him to look up.

"You've got ink on your face," I informed him. He grumbled, lowering his quill to the table as I approached and took a seat opposite him. "We've got to talk."

"Okay... About what? Is there something else on my face?" Harry asked quickly, paranoid. I rolled my eyes but quickly sobered up, sliding my Legacy-the top sheet of paper-to him.

"Is this-"

"Read it," I interrupted. Harry looked as if he were going to argue but thought better of it, lowering his eyes to the piece of paper. From my seat, I could easily read the text upside down.

_**Full Name: Thomas Evan Riddle the Third** _

_**Date of Birth: January 17th, 1965** _

_**Father: Thomas Riddle Junior, known alias: Lord Voldemort** _

_**Mother: Marie Dorea Selwyn** _

_**Titles: Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin** _

_**Gifts: Parselmouth (Realized)** _

_**Additional Notes: Bond of Adsumo performed by LJP (December 24th, 1979)** _

_**Legacy, performed on August 2nd, 1995** _

_**Performed by Head Garvis Hammerfall** _

_**Filed by Keeper Roucak** _

I could tell exactly when Harry reached the pertinent section by the way his brow furrowed with confusion.

"What is a bond of adsumo?" Harry asked, glancing up from the paper to look at me. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable seeing Lily's eyes staring back at me for the first time in a long time.

"It's a very old ritual. Very few people even know about it. The only reason anyone knew to use it was because of Sirius. The adsumo bond was used by the Blacks when someone worked out some rather sketchy math regarding the birth of the heir the family, making it impossible for him to be the son of the mistress of the house."

"What does it do?" Harry seemed to know that I was stalling and I resisted the urge to shift again.

"This is not common knowledge, so I would prefer if you could keep this to yourself... There was a lot of debate on whether or not I should be allowed into the Order after your mother ended the... interrogations. The smart-aleck that she was, she discovered this bond and proposed to use it as both a way to ensure my dedication to their cause as well as a method of keeping me in line."

"What does it do?" Harry repeated more firmly.

"Adsumo is Latin for assume or, more accurately, adopt," I said carefully, not looking at Harry but looking at the narrow scar that ran down the center of my right hand. "The process is complicated and full of conditions and rules but, basically, Lily magically adopted me. We exchanged blood and, as a result of the procedure, I was welcomed by the Order. After your parents passed, I took on Evan as a middle name to honor your mother."

"So... we're..." Harry struggled to find words and I frowned, clenching my hand into a fist so I didn't have to look at my scar any longer.

"Depending on who you ask, you and I are half-brothers. It's a stretch at best and I wouldn't be able to fully explain unless I go into great detail about the bond itself but that's not important. The reason I tell you this is because you must make a choice."

Harry was silent for a long time and I allowed him his contemplation. The situation was a strange one and I could afford him some time to catch up.

"If my mother adopted you... how could you leave me with the Dursleys?"

I took a moment to calculate how much controlled anger was in Harry's shaking voice and I closed my eyes, not even close to understanding how I would handle this.

"After the war... After your parents died..." I started, only for my voice to drift off. I started again, more determined to finish. "Your mother was my biggest support. Without her, I was floating in a very dangerous position. At best, people assumed I'd be too grieved to do anything. At worst, they thought that I'd wreck havoc without Lily to keep me in check. No matter how prepared I was or not to take in a toddler, I was never given a choice. At the same time, I was in no condition to take you in. I didn't turn seventeen for another three months. I didn't have OWLs or NEWTs so I couldn't get a reasonable job. I had no income, no home, no connections I could trust. Even if I did get you, what would I have done then? It's not like I had any sort of childhood to pass on to you. I don't know the first thing about kids. Any option was better than I was, even the Dursleys."

"So why are you telling me this now? You've got a purpose for everything," Harry said with the tiniest amount of grudging respect. I nodded, pulling my Legacy back. I felt strangely exposed having it sit on the table so I flipped the sheet of paper over.

"I won't lie. You need every bit of training you can afford so I want your input. Dumbledore talked to you about Lily's sacrificial protection but not the bond of blood. Basically, because Petunia took you in, Lily's protection will protect you so long as you call the Dursley's house home or until you turn 17. In order to keep that bond functional, you must return to the Dursleys at least once a year. To be safe, Dumbledore wants your visit to last at least two weeks to ensure the bond is strengthened."

"But?"

"But," I continued, "The bond of blood is determined by Lily's blood. Because of the adsumo bond between us, that bond of blood could theoretically pass to me. It is only a theory, however, so deciding to continue your training until September may sacrifice that protection forever."

"But Voldemort can touch me now. Isn't the protection broken now?"

"No. From what I figured out with Dumbledore, You will still have protection from other attackers. I doubt the protection could still deflect killing curses but you should have some protection from other dark magicks. Father will be able to attack you because he took in your blood but none of his followers should have that ability."

" _Should_ ," Harry emphasized. I nodded, smiling shrewdly.

"Yes, _should_. This is very old and unexplored magic. I doubt even the Unspeakables have much to say on the topic."

Harry fell silent for a moment and I allowed him to think. I knew I threw a lot of information at him in just a few minutes and I intended on letting him absorb it as slowly as he needed. I busied myself with looking at the other papers I'd brought with me-a bizarre mix of administrative work for the Auror Office and training and shift rotations for the Order- as Harry collected himself.

"What happens if I stay here to continue training and the protection moves to you?"

"Dumbledore believes that the best course of action would be for me to..." The words didn't want to come out and I scowled at myself. I was thirty years old and I was still nowhere near ready to take on a brat like Harry for more than one summer. Like I told Harry more than a month ago, I was no Gryffindor. "If the protection passes to me, it would be safest for you to live with me over the summer until you turn 17. That would align with your training but it would mean that you and I must recognize the other as family. Politically, that would be hard to explain without... Without exposing the adsumo bond."

"Would that be that bad?" Harry asked, surprising me. I ran a hand through my hair uneasily.

"Think of how you reacted. Now imagine how Rita Skeeter would take it. I am playing a very dangerous game and I really don't want to die anytime soon. The son of the Dark Lord being magically adopted by the Boy who Lived's mom sounds right out of a crappy novel."

"I think... I think I should go back to Little Whinging," Harry said slowly. "I have a lot to do, yeah, but I think that the protection is more important than two weeks of training. And it's not worth throwing you into the public eye."

Damn it. Now I felt guilty. I shook my head, laughing bitterly as my mind was made up.

"Lily is probably laughing at me right now," I muttered under my breath. "You'll go to Little Whinging but I'll set the groundwork. This will be easier to play off if it happens when you're still being discredited. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to pull some more people to our side?" I said hopefully. Harry frowned at me.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been out of sight, not publicly confirming or denying Father's return. I think it's time for that to change," I said with a smirk that I prayed hid what I was really feeling.

_Merlin, I hope this works._

* * *

After dropping Harry off in Little Whinging, I used the next several days to return to my desk at the Auror Office. My disappearance was noted by my coworkers- and my boss, a lion of a man named Rufus Scrimgeour- but no one had openly complained just yet. I had nine years of service in at the office and I'd never needed any of my sick or vacation days before. With a large portion of my administrative work being covertly done by Kingsley, I was able to come in only once or twice a week without any serious issues cropping up.

"Ah, Thomas." _Fuck_.

"Rufus," I greeted as calmly as I could. Rufus stood in the doorway to my office, a warm smile on his lips but a sharp and dangerous curiosity glinting in his eyes. "Good morning, sir."

"I have been trying to get ahold of you for some time but it seems I never am able to catch you at your desk."

"I'm sorry. A situation cropped up recently that has required quite a bit of my time. I can assure you that it's not affecting the work if that's your concern."

"No, never. You've always had a good head when it comes to our duty here." Rufus paused to narrow his eyes. "So. Will you tell me the truth now?"

"The truth, sir?" I asked cautiously. Rufus tutted quietly, stepping into the room for the first time and shutting the door behind him.

"You've been ordering more training and drills for the force. Do not lie to me, or I shall know. Why?" Rufus asked seriously. I frowned, lowering my quill to the table. I hesitated for a brief moment before seizing my left sleeve and pulling it up roughly. The Dark Mark swirled against my skin, hissing and writhing in anger.

"You saw the Dark Mark when my father was inactive. Whether through the means Dumbledore and Potter have been declaring or through another way, he has returned. I believe that we will soon be faced with open war once more and it is the duty of Aurors to protect the civilians from Dark wizards."

"So you're militarizing the Aurors without authorization?" Rufus asked pointedly. "You are acting against the will of your minister."

"With all due respect, Cornelius Fudge never personally fought against the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters, sir. He was not in power during the war. He is not able to recognize the subtle symbols that you and I both see. I'm not moving to militarize the Aurors, just ensuring that they're able to work to their full capacity."

A tense silence fell over the office for a long moment as Rufus and I studied each other carefully. I covered the Dark Mark once more, feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable with it visible.

"I will allow this project of yours to continue, but only if you honestly tell me what has been taking you away from the office as of late. If you believe that we will be at war soon, what has been distracting you away from your post here?" Understanding flickered in Rufus's eyes as he spoke. "Is it Dumbledore?"

"A life debt is calling for me to pay up," I dodged. "I'm also scouting a pair for research and development. If this comes to war, these two will be invaluable."

"Is it worth it?" Rufus asked. He was a shrewd man, even if the job had left him tough and hard, With a little more polish, he'd be the sort of man that might just win this war. The bad news was that it'd be a delicate dance until the war's over. Even so, I nodded firmly.

"Yes."

"Very well. I will let you continue. If you have any new ideas or adjustments to the normal-duty rotations, though, I expect you to go through me before you put them into action from now on."

"Understood." I picked up a small stack of papers and held them out towards the man. Rufus raised an eyebrow at them questioningly and I smiled wryly. "Training rotations for the next two weeks and a potential revisement of the training program."

Rufus sighed but accepted the packet of papers.

"You're going to drown me in paperwork until this war's over, won't you?"

"Not if I die before then," I said, laughing under my breath.

When Rufus left my office, I returned my attention to what I was currently working on: the review of an incident report from one of the newer Aurors who had someone slipped up and used an _expulso_ in front of a group of tourists visiting some ancient ruin. It was a good thing the old castle was already in crumbles, either we'd have to dispatch people to repair the damage as well as obliviators to handle the tourists.

"Letter for you, sir." I looked up to see Tonks- with shoulder length orange hair today- at the door, a sealed envelope in her hand. I nodded briskly and she stepped forward, tripping on the threshold as the floor changed from tile to wood.

"Thank you, Tonks. Any progress on the Black hunt?" I asked conversationally. She scowled gently.

"We had a lead to a small town in Wales but it came up dead. Back to square one, as usual," she said with more than a little frustration. I was sure she was frustrated. To go through three years of hell, only to be put on a goosechase. She knew full well where her favorite cousin was hiding. This probably felt like a demotion to her. I was sure Kingsley wasn't too happy with me for doing the same to him.

"Oh well. As you were," I dismissed, nodding towards the door. She bobbed her head and danced out of the office, accidentally slamming my door very loudly on her way out. Once she was gone, I tore the envelope open and unfolded the letter. It was very concisely put, only three lines in all but it got the point across.

_**Tom,** _

_**2, 3, and 5. Changed things up a bit. Come by and see sometime.** _

_**FG** _

I had given the twins a few recommendations. Two, three, and five... Oh yes, those were sure to be fun. Hiding a smirk, I tapped the envelope with my wand, vanishing it and the letter. No sense in letting that lay around, even if the casual snoop wouldn't be able to understand the letter's meaning.


	9. Into the Lion's Den

I dropped Harry off in Little Whinging on August 7th. I wasn't sure if I should be impressed or disappointed when Fawkes delivered a letter to me on the evening of August 11th saying that Harry had managed to be attacked by two dementors. Luckily for him and his Muggle cousin, he had fought both off with a perfectly done patronus. Unluckily, he was supposedly expelled from Hogwarts. His hearing was scheduled for the sixteenth, a Sunday.

I couldn't care much about the potential expulsion. I knew Dumbledore would weasel Harry out of any real punishment. What I did care about was the bond of blood linking Harry to Petunia. With only a few days to renew that bond, was that enough? Or would the bond weaken and break?

In any case, it was a given that I was a part of the advanced guard that came to pick Harry up from 4 Privet Drive under cover of darkness.

"Three years of training and you still can't maneuver a kitchen," I teased Tonks as she glared at the broken plate on the floor as if it had decided to jump off the counter on its own.

"Do we know where his room is?" Tonk said, changing the subject quickly. I rolled my eyes and started walking towards the front of the house. The stairs were where I had guessed they'd be and, at the top of the landing, it was clear which door was Harry's. Only one door had locks and a cat flap installed.

"Alohomora," I murmured at the padlock. I pushed the door open and saw Harry standing just behind the door, surprise all over his face. "Hey, brat. Sorry for the lack of warning. Didn't want to chance interception."

"Tom?"

"Yep." I flicked my wand towards the lighting fixture and light filled the room, illuminating Harry and the Advance Guard.

"I see what you mean, Remus," Kingsley noted. "He looks exactly like James."

"Lily's eyes," I countered a little too quickly. Mad-Eye covered my slip with some good, old-fashioned paranoia, luckily for me.

"Are you sure it's him, Tom? Wouldn't want to bring back some Death Eater impersonating him, now would we? We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless someone's got some Veritaserum?"

"What was the name of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets?" I asked patiently.

"Peridae," Harry answered after a pause. I nodded.

"That's him," I assured Mad-Eye before returning my focus to Harry. "We're taking you to a safe location to await your hearing. You'll be there until start of term."

"Are we going to continue training there?" Harry asked with a frown.

"If the master of the house allows it, yes." I scowled at the thought of asking Sirius Black but quickly schooled my expression. We all had bigger issues to deal with. "Get packed. We should be leaving in the next twenty minutes. I'm taking you by apparation while the others are flying to cover us."

As Harry got packed, Remus spoke to him about how he was faring and how sorry everyone was to have been unable to contact him. He threw a rather pointed look at me at that point but I shrugged it off. Remus also introduced the rest of the guard to Harry, who seemed surprised to see how many people had shown up.

When Harry was finished packing-an effort speeded along by Tonks-we all went down to the garden to wait for the first signal. Harry and I would disapparate at the first set of sparks while the guard would take off at the second. To make transport easier, Harry's belongings were neatly shrunk down and stored in one of my pockets.

"Before we go," I muttered, rummaging in my pockets. Victoriously, I held out a grubby piece of paper to Harry. "Read and memorize."

"Okay, I've got it," Harry said decidedly after a few seconds. I was half-proud at the fact that he didn't ask anything about what he'd read but pushed that thought out of my mind. I threw the paper into the air and flicked my wand towards it. A brief rush of flames burst from my wands and the paper was reduced to ashes.

"There's the first signal!" Remus announced, pointing to the horizon as a plume of red sparks flew up. I gripped Harry's shoulder and turned, taking the boy with me into the dark between-worlds of apparation.

I was proud to say that Harry no longer fell to his knees due to apparation. He still coughed and gasped for air, though, so I gave him a few moments of reprieve while I scanned the alley. It was the same alley I apparated into for Order meetings so I'd already gone and set Muggle repelling wards over the area, just in case.

When Harry had recovered, I pulled him out of the alley and towards Grimmauld Place. Unfortunately for the shock and awe aspect, Harry didn't have the pleasure of seeing the house grow out of the row, having learned the location back in Surrey.

Praying with every bone in my body that the boy would one day forgive me for not giving him the pleasure of seeing the house sprout from between numbers 11 and 13, I tapped my wand on the door and pushed the boy inside.

"Don't speak above a whisper in the hall," I ordered in a hushed tone. I took out Harry's shrunken luggage and undid the shrinking charm, bringing the trunk, the owl cage, and the Firebolt back to their proper size. "The meeting shouldn't start for a while but you should get upstairs. You should be on the second floor, door on the right of the landing. Off you go. The other kids'll be able to fill you in a little."

"But-" Harry protested.

"Later. You know what I've told you about the Order. Adults only, unless Dumbledore and your guardian say yes. Black won't need much persuasion but Dumbledore..." I allowed my voice to drift off and Harry crumpled, disappointed but accepting. He seized his trunk and looked up at the stairs dolefully. "Off you go."

Harry trudged off towards the stairs and I darted into the kitchen. Dumbledore wouldn't show up until the last minute but I knew that others in the Order would be interested to know that Harry had arrived safely.

The Order of the Phoenix was growing into a semi-decent force. With prodding from Mad-Eye, myself, and- loathe though I was to admit it- Sirius, the Order was now much more functional. Sirius handled day to day operations since he had little else to do. Stake out rotations and other logistics were his business. He had set up the drawing room as a command center and, while there were improvements to be made, it was decent work. Missions- from stake outs to covert sabotage of known Death Eaters- were being carried out in a reasonable manner for the first time since the Order's founding. Mad-Eye, after a career of fighting and training other fighters, was head of training in dueling and other battle skills. He organized training schedules and made sure that everyone obeyed his law of constant vigilance. I was the catch-all, more or less. Training Harry took up a lot of my time but I was still the expert on Death Eater politics and tactics. With my position in the Auror Office, I was also the highest ranking Ministry employee in the Order. I organized Order business to align best with Ministry business. First I was a glorified babysitter, now I was glorified public relations. _Wonderful_.

Thanks to the the Order's new structure, the meeting went by much faster despite being one of the large-scale meetings. Everyone who needed to give a report had their chance to speak and we were all updated on the next two weeks of training and work rotations. When we were finally done, the meeting slowly fell apart as everyone began to socialize. As per normal, I strayed over to where Severus gathered the papers spread before him.

"Hello, Severus," I greeted. He met my gaze steadily. The two of us had a bizarre relationship. We were both tied to Lily Potter in very different ways and we'd both been damaged by her death. Before that, though, he had met me when he was was first inducted into Father's service. I had been thirteen, and he had been seventeen.

"Tom," he said with a shallow nod. "How's babysitting?"

"I could ask you the same," I said, gesturing towards a vivid bruise on Severus's arm, exposed as he organized his papers. He grimaced, shaking his sleeve over the injury, and I nodded sympathetically. Father always did have a nasty temper.

"Is there any particular reason you're here?" Severus asked drolly. I grimaced, pulling a slip of paper from my robes. I hated this part of the job.

"I received a heavily encoded letter. I'd assume a house elf delivered it. I've tried decoding it myself and I've deciphered a name. Recognize it?" I held the paper out to Severus. The sheet was covered in encoded runes and overlaid with my own notes and translations. It wasn't exactly neat but the name Clint Regald and several choice words stood out among the rest. Clint Regald was known to me due to his position in the Ministry. He was assistant to Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If he were a Death Eater spy, he had access to plenty of sensitive information.

"Do you suspect that this is true?" Severus asked seriously. If this information was intentionally spread, acting on it could endanger my spies. With Father as careful as ever, spies were extremely hard to get into enemy circles. Losing one would mean a loss of significant investment and potential.

"I don't know yet. He was just a brat during the first war but he might have joined up. Keep an eye out and let me know if he makes himself visible. I'm not adding him to the official watch list but I'll have someone on him just in case."

"Have you told Dumbledore yet?" I had a lot of respect for Severus because of his occasional suspicion of Dumbledore. Severus had poured all of his faith into the man blindly once and been irreparably hurt by the outcome; he had never forgiven the man and he certainly never forgot.

"Not yet. The two of us and the two people I have rotating watch shifts are the only people who know of this letter. The fewer people who know, the better."

Severus nodded solemnly and, when he shifted his eyes away from me, I realized how few people were left in the kitchen.

"Good luck with Black," he said in farewell.

"Good luck with Father," I replied. Severus strode out of the room and, soon after he left, the kids filed in. I took a deep breath. I guess it was time to figure out if I could handle an entire night of social interaction.


	10. The Taboo

The dinner had been rather normal... What came after, however...

"Harry is fifteen! He is far too young to be thrown into this war, Thomas," Molly growled at me. Sirius scoffed and Molly whipped her head around to stare icily at him as well. "It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!"

"You were at that meeting, Molly. Dumbledore does not wish Harry to know more than he must but you don't get to draw that line," I said as calmly as possible. To my immense surprise, Sirius nodded in whole-hearted agreement.

"Just because he's not technically in the Order doesn't mean he can't ask any questions," Sirius added heatedly. "He's not a child."

"He's not an adult either," Molly retorted. "He's not _James_ , Sirius, and he's certainly not _you_ , Thomas!"

"This war would be a lot easier if he were," I muttered under my breath. Luckily, Molly seemed to not hear me over Sirius's outburst. The argument carried on in that manner with all the kids bearing witness until Remus bravely took the middle ground.

"It is important, I think, that Harry gets told at least the general picture by us, rather than a garbled version from... others." His gaze didn't touch the twins but both Fred and George exchanged the smallest of glances.

Molly appeared positively flustered for a solid minute, her hands waving around aimlessly.

"Well... Well... I can see that I'm being overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who's got Harry's best interests at heart-"

"He's not your son," Sirius interrupted quietly. Molly reddened angrily.

"He might as well be. Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes. The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?" I've never seen the matriarch of the Weasley family so vindictive. A very tiny part of me winced on Sirius's behalf.

"Molly," I began, hoping my voice didn't give away how tired I felt. "There's no reason to start with that, please. Let's be mature about this. I spoke to Dumbledore and we've discussed at least part of his reasoning behind keeping Harry in the dark. I've shifted his training to reflect that. The risk that Dumbledore feared is now less pressing... Dumbledore is realizing that he hasn't always been right with his actions towards Harry. That's why Harry's been receiving training at all this summer. Harry has grown and you need to accept that in some capacity."

Dumbledore was very tightlipped on his exact reasoning but I could connect the dots once Dobby reported Harry's nightmares to me. The boy was rubbish at Occlumency but, so long as he practiced his meditation each night, his dreams would be safe.

"Fine. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George- I want you out of this kitchen, now."

 _Cue the inevitable chaos_.

Once Ginny alone had stomped and screamed her way upstairs- and Remus darted into the hall to quiet Mrs. Black- we were able to speak once more.

"Alright, Harry," Sirius started, "what do you already know?"

"I know that he's been trying to collect more followers, get others to join the cause. Has he been successful?" Harry asked urgently. Eyes turned to me- the resident expert on Death Eater movements, sans Severus- and I grimaced.

"He's being very quiet but there are whispers. It is both a blessing and curse that he's recruiting. I've been trying to worm spies into his ranks since his return but I'm only now getting any progress. We are placing more attention into tracking and monitoring known Death Eaters and ensuring Father doesn't gain support from any other magical species."

"What about Head Garvis?" Harry asked suddenly, frowning lightly.

"Strictly neutral. I like to think that, if it came down to it, he would personally side with us but he is just one voice among many. Garvis may be the goblin in charge of our branch of Gringotts, but there is a chain of command above him as well."

"What about the Order? Are we recruiting too?" Harry inquired. Sirius answered that one a little bitterly.

"We are, but it's hard to get the word out. I can't exactly go into the street and pass out leaflets now that I've got a ten thousand galleon bounty on my head, courtesy of our friends at the Ministry."

"We do what we can," I said with a shrug. I really couldn't care much about Sirius's bounty at the moment. "Anyone working at the Ministry can't be open about the war just yet, or we'd lose our jobs. Fudge is making it clear that anyone on Dumbledore's side can clear out. I'm working to get more Aurors on our side but it's slow work. I've been more concentrating on getting them all trained up so they can do their own jobs without Dumbledore micromanaging the lot of them."

"Dumbledore's also in a bad spot. He's using a lot of his political clout up, and the slander isn't going to stop or slow until Voldemort comes clean into the picture," Sirius added. I resisted the urge to scratch at my arm beneath the table. While the taboo wasn't so bad so long as I wasn't the one to say the name, it was still uncomfortable. Pride forbade that Severus and I speak about the taboo, though, so no one else in the Order seemed privy to that little fact. Dumbledore might be aware, but his stance on fear of a name was very clear. Thanks to him, some Order meetings can get rather... uncomfortable.

"Has he been doing anything else, then?"

"He hasn't been massacring the countryside, if that's what you're asking," Sirius said without mirth. "He's been laying low for a while now, trying to not pull attention to himself. His plans got really mucked up when he came back, you see."

"Or rather, you mucked them up for him," Remus added with a dry chuckle. Harry nodded with understanding. We'd talked a bit about that already.

"He does have plans, but I think Molly will skin us alive if we talk more now." I shot the woman a cautious glance. I'd rather face off against Father than intentionally get on her bad side. "I'll speak to Dumbledore to see what else you should know for the immediate future. It isn't entirely my decision, but I don't care to have you kept in the dark. It is your fate, after all," I said. Molly picked up on the hint, and she scowled at me fiercely.

"All of you to bed, now!" she ordered. She turned to me with an icy fury in her eyes. "And don't you think you're getting away with _that_."

"No, ma'am," I said as solemnly as I could. She left with the kids, bustling them up to bed, and I turned to Sirius as everyone else resumed conversation or began to clear their dinner plates. "Will you consent to Harry training here for the rest of the summer?"

Sirius threw me a weighted, calculating look. He thought in silence for a long moment.

"Only when I'm present," he decided finally. I quickly fought off the scowl that threatened to overtake the mask of my face. The fact that he agreed to it at all was more than I expected.

"I can accept that." A flicker of what looked like relief shone in Sirius's eyes for a moment, and a rush of realization came to me. A wry smile appeared on my face. "You just want to get out of cleaning, don't you?"

Sirius grimaced, which I took as a yes.

"You can't prove that," he defended half-heartedly. I scoffed but quickly sobered up.

"I won't be able to be here for the next couple of days. I'll be needed at the Ministry. Rufus finally caught on to what I've been doing."

"And?" Sirius asked, any trace of good mood gone. I appreciated that, though we could hardly stand one another, he was able to be civil when it came to the Order. Most of the time, anyway...

"He's going along with it for now. He's made it clear that my duty to the Office should come before my duty to Dumbledore but he won't argue against the fulfillment of a life debt. I'm fairly certain that he'll play along until Father makes his return known."

Sirius was silent for a moment before frowning. I abruptly realized that Sirius and I were now the only ones left at the table.

"Humor me. Why do you call him that?"

"Why do I refer to my father as such?" I rephrased sarcastically. Sirius scowled darkly.

"Look, I know we haven't exactly gotten along but I'm trying here, alright? Can't you just answer the damn question?" he asked with exasperation. I looked away, at a crossroads. It was bizarrely out of character for Sirius to attempt to be the big man but it was remotely possible that being locked away in Azkaban might have forced him to grow up a bit. With that hope, I chose the most bitter option before me: the truth.

"It's a taboo," I said, resenting the words as they came out. "It's built into the Dark Mark to encourage loyalty and fear of the name. It's why you won't find a marked Death Eater who doesn't call him the Dark Lord."

"You mean saying his name-"

"It causes the Mark to burn," I said as clinically and unfeeling as I could manage. "Saying and hearing it, though hearing it has a much less serious reaction."

Sirius looked very pale and I averted my eyes so I didn't have to look at him any longer.

"I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. And I'd ask you to not repeat it."

"Is your pride that important?" Sirius said, a mocking lilt to his voice. I chuckled darkly.

"Isn't yours?"

Sirius was silent and remained quiet as others slowly drifted back into the room for coffee and conversation. I didn't speak for the rest of the visit and, for the rest of my stay, I didn't so much as glance in Sirius Black's direction.


	11. Musings

"Williams, Travis, I have your next assignment. We got a tip off on disturbances in the Lestrange manor. Grab Kingsley and scope it out. No matter what you find, report back before acting, understand?" I questioned seriously. Levitt Williams and Brandon Travis were good Aurors but they were short on experience, at least according to me. Both were accepted into the Auror program after the last war was over, when the standards were lowered so that the Auror force could recover its numbers and put up a show of strength as the last of the Death Eaters were scooped up and tossed in prison. Kingsley, as an Order member and a veteran of the last war, would keep the two in line and vigilant.

"The Lestrange manor has been quiet for years, sir," Travis asked, his unasked question hanging between us. I nodded grimly. The Lestrange manor was quiet because the psychopaths who owned the place were rotting away in prison. Azkaban was quiet but it was only a matter of time before Father made his move against the prison. I knew how to pick my battles, though, and there was no chance of either Rufus or Fudge agreeing to assign Aurors as extra defense to the prison.

"Which is exactly why you're going to investigate these reports."

This mission was a little risky. There was no tip off, with the stretch of an exception of Dumbledore not-so-subtly hinting that the Lestrange manor would make a fantastic base for any gathering Death Eaters. It was less immediately obvious than, say, the Malfoy manor but that was what made it worth investigating at all.

Part of me hoped that I wasn't sending two decent Aurors and a fellow Order member to a bloodbath, but most of me prayed that they'd find something concrete enough that we could go public with the return of the war.

Williams and Travis both scarpered off in the direction of Kingsley's desk and I turned on my heel. I had more paperwork waiting for me than I wanted to admit and I'd been putting it off for far too long already.

My thoughts turned to the upcoming training rotations and I bit back a groan. Mad-Eye had a rough enough time handling rotations for the forty or so Order members; I had 126 active-duty Aurors.

If I wasn't lucky enough to die in some dramatic duel first, I'd probably be crushed to death by an avalanche of books, files, and notes.

I was exhausted by the time I stepped onto the streets of London. It had been well over a month since I stepped foot in my own flat but, with the Hogwarts term quickly approaching, it was high time that I move back in. With a quick flick on my wand to remove the thin layer of dust coating just about every surface in the room, I threw myself onto the couch with a sigh. My head buzzed with errant thoughts from my latest conversation with Dumbledore.

" _Harry will need to continue his training into the school year."_ Those had been the dangerous words that I should not have said at all.

" _You know that there is only one way to allow for that. You reported that your time with Harry has distracted you enough from work that Scrimgeour is suspicious."_

I couldn't have it both ways. I couldn't personally oversee Harry's training as well as maintain my position in the Auror Office. Forsaking Harry's training could hurt him later in the war, but giving up my position could hurt everyone. I was one of the few people in a position of power in the Ministry. With Scrimgeour the easy prediction for a replacement minister if Fudge ever gave up or gave in, I was next in line for Head of the Auror Office. That would be extremely valuable- too valuable to risk throwing away.

" _It's not my choice to make,"_ I had tried to argue. But it was. Of course it was. Dumbledore, the master puppeteer and meddler, refused to even openly discuss the options with me.

I wasn't ready to have power and responsibility over Harry in an official capacity. That was the main reason he had even gone back to Surrey. If I trained Harry any more, he would become exactly what I was, what I loathed being: a pawn. Harry was never destined to call the shots in this war, but he had also never had a choice in what he was. He was, since that fateful Halloween, the Boy Who Lived and little more.

Unfortunately, time with the boy had forced me to grudgingly accept that that wasn't all he was. Lily had been right to wonder how she would have felt if Harry went through what I did during the war. History- _my_ history- was repeating itself in the Potter heir and everyone was powerless to stop it. Harry was a foil to my own character and I couldn't help but empathize.

I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing, trying to quiet my busy mind with occlumency. It worked, but only partially, and I growled in frustration. I opened my eyes to darkness and I realized only then that I hadn't turned on the light as I entered.

I couldn't quit the Auror Office. I _couldn't_. It had been part of my identity for the last decade.

I couldn't abandon Harry. Life debt aside, I didn't want him to face Father unprepared. As much as I hated to admit it even to myself, I had grown to care for the boy in some way. I couldn't describe the bond, be it teacher-student, father-son, or brother-to-brother, but I knew that Harry had somehow wormed his way into the small circle of people important to me.

In that same strain, I have vowed to ensure that what had happened to me would never happen again. I hated my father more than words can say because he had tried to shape and control me into being his perfect weapon. Who was I, then, to try to do the exact thing to Harry? Would Harry hate me as I hate my father?

A part of me knew that the training process I had undergone and the one Harry had started were vastly different, but that didn't seem enough to assuage my mind. I shut my eyes once more, replacing the darkness of the room with yet more darkness.

 _Options_ , I told myself. I needed options and eventualities, to look at this situation as rationally as possible.

Option One: Harry drops out of Hogwarts and continues his training while I juggle training and the Auror Office. This was the least viable option. Harry would lose any ties to his friends, denying him what little remained of his childhood and social life. I was already buckling under the stress of juggling both for one summer, let alone the rest of the war. If I was offered the Headship of the Office, there would be no way for me to continue Harry's training.

Option Two: Harry goes back to Hogwarts and I follow along to further his training. That could work out in a few ways. I could take up the mantle of DADA professor, saddling me with hundreds of brats that I wasn't prepared for. At the same time, having a hopefully competent professor would help ready the upcoming generation for the approaching war. Harry and company would receive training that would likely enable them to survive the war. Even if I don't take up the DADA professorship, I could move into the Chamber of Secrets and continuing Harry's training whenever he had free time.

Unfortunately, following Harry to Hogwarts would force me to quit being an Auror. The Order would lose their most valuable Ministry employee and they'd be blind if Scrimgeour becomes Minister.

Option Three: Harry goes back to Hogwarts and I go back to the Auror Office. Several possible outcomes. Harry could either receive decent teaching but, given the new educational decree allowing the Ministry to place a professor if one couldn't be found, I doubted it. Harry could either continue his training on his own- with his friends bugging him for extracurricular training every step of the way- or slack off. I doubted he'd slack off with a murdering psychopath egging for his head, so that meant he'd train on his own. Would it be enough? I had no way to tell.

On my end, I'd be in a prime position to continue my work for the Order. If Scrimgeour _was_ elected to Minister, I'd be his right hand. He already knew my position on the war and he's worked with me in the past enough to trust me. If I made a few decisions here and there with information from both the Ministry and the Order along the way, all the better.

Option Four: the both of us quit and devote all of our time to his training. Also not viable. It would simply combine the negatives of all my options. Harry may or may not receive the training he needs, the Order would lose eyes and ears in the Ministry, they'd run blind once Fudge is out of office, and the Order and the Ministry wouldn't be able to work in tandem against Father.

I weighed the pros and cons, running scenarios in my head as I tried to predict the future. For a snarky moment, I wondered why divination wasn't included in my early education.

Why in the seven hells was this _my_ choice to make?

I watched quietly from the background as Molly Weasley threw all of the limelight onto Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects. Searching past all of the noise and revelry, though, I could spy Harry on the fringes of the gathering. His eyes gave him away and I sighed softly. He'd have to work on that, or he'd be an easy target.

I wandered over to him, picking up a couple of butterbeers from the table on the way. Coming up to the boy, I pushed one into his hand and leaned on the wall next to him.

"It's very conflicting, isn't it?" I asked quietly. Harry's head jerked towards me and an uncharacteristic scowl was on his face. He stayed quiet, however, so I continued. "You were never in the running for prefect, Harry, so don't treat this as something you got beat at."

"I'm happy for him."

"Then why do you look miserable?" I asked pointedly. "A good part of the Order questions why Dumbledore chose Ron over you in this. You were a more obvious choice and it would show the public that he has faith in you, but that's not what being a prefect is about. You might have been a good prefect, but those duties would distract you from the real task at hand. Once Father is exposed, you'll have bigger concerns on your mind than who's prefect. Let Ron have Hogwarts. It's the first thing he's got that you didn't."

Harry looked shamefaced for a long minute before nodding. As he took a swig of butterbeer and returned into the main of the party, I took my leave. Parties weren't exactly my forte.

" _So you're a Gryffindor?"_

" _Hardly."_

In reflection, I doubted that I'd ever said anything more true. I made the easiest choice. Whether it would be the right choice, however, could only be told with time.

With guilts and doubts weighing heavily on my mind, I returned to the Auror Office for work on September 1st, knowing that Harry would be boarding the Hogwarts Express any minute. What was done was done, however, and I'd probably hate myself more for trying to change my mind than I hated myself for making up my mind in the first place.

I settled in for the day of work, throwing myself into the tower of reports waiting for me in my ingoing tray.


End file.
